"And a nymph of Lurley out of that white drapery," said "General Washington," approaching and offering me his arm. We made the tour of the rooms, admired the flowers, discussed the dresses, and tried to find each other out. I soon discovered my companion to be Mr. Emerson of the Grove, a fine, dignified old gentleman, whom I had always admired. His unconscious interest in, and admiration for, a tall brunette, whose black eyes sparkled even through her mask, betrayed her immediately to me as his daughter, Miss Janet Emerson. The Misses Mason were flower-girls of course; their mamma, by virtue of her literary proclivities and immense fund of sentiment, appeared as a sibyl, and told fortunes untiringly; the younger Mr. Mason wore an English hunting-dress, and the elder one escaped my observation among the crowd of greater strangers in the room. An Oxford student paid me marked attention, but discovering the unmistakable white eyelashes and feeble voice of my pet aversion, Ellerton Wynkar, I became discouragingly distant and severe, and he transferred his devotion to a pretty Greek dress, which I soon concluded must enshrine the indolent loveliness of my cousin Grace.
Beyond this, my penetration was entirely at fault; among the crowd of grotesque and graceful figures, I tried in vain to recognize any of our own party. There were half a dozen men of Phil's height, and as many of Mr. Rutledge's make; so many imitated the captain's military manner, that it was impossible to recognize the stork among the cranes. There were two Louis Quatorze costumes, that more than any others suggested Josephine and Ella, but I could not be positive; they were so exactly alike, that even when together one could not detect a shade of difference either in dress or manner. The powdered hair and masks, of course, concealed the diversity of color and complexion.
"Those two are the most distinguished-looking in the room," said General Washington, by way of small talk. "I suppose you have recognized them—Miss Churchill and her cousin."
"Which cousin?"
"The one who is engaged to the young Frenchman. Quite a pretty girl. I never saw her look so well as she does to-night."
"Which is Mr. Rutledge, do you know?" I asked.
"I have not made him out yet, but if you care to know the surest way will be to stay here, in the neighborhood of Miss Churchill: he will not be very far off!"
"Then let us sit here," and I sank down on a sofa.
"Your cavalier keeps a faithful watch upon your movements," said my companion. "He has followed you from room to room, and is just behind you now."
"Who is it that you mean?"